What shall we die for?
by Cribellate
Summary: Haitus AWE spoilers! After all the fighting, all the pain they endured, she was lost. Taken by those presumed dead. It’s about high time she was found.
1. Prologue

**Title: What shall we die for?**

Disclaimer - Unfortunately, I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean One, Two OR Three Sadness. D Any characters I may well introduce into the plot line that have not been in either of the three films are MINE xD

Right, this DOES contain SPOILERS from At World's End, so if you haven't seen the film yet, I wouldn't recommend reading any further than this point. Now. Kapeesh?

_Yeah, I didn't like how At World's End ended At all, so have decided to change it a LITTLE bit… Well, Ok, maybe a lot.  
Basically, Davy Jones stays as captain of the Flying Dutchman and Will survives. Although Beckett's ship was totally and utterly destroyed, he somehow survived. Read the rest to see what happens._

**Summary: After all the fighting, all the pain they endured, she was lost – taken by those presumed dead. It's about high time she was found.**

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Prologue

"Elizabeth, will you marry me?"

Time seemed to stand still for a split second. All the pirates and officers fighting, screaming, dying, appeared to vanish, leaving only Elizabeth Swann and William Turner in their wake. One, a hopeful, even bashful look plastered upon his face. The other, shocked and uncertain.

"I don't think now's the best time!" Elizabeth's voice rang clear through the silence that only seemed to exist between the two lovers.

"We may not get another time." Will turned to the woman beside him, thinking of how she'd grown out of a shell created for her by a regulated, stiff, almost forced environment. She was born a Governor's daughter, protected & spoilt, but now she was much, much more. Now she fought for herself and the people she loved. Now she was the Pirate King.

Elizabeth gasped and threw herself into a soldier about to attack Will, effectively barraging the attacker out of the way. Upon seeing his unbalance, she plunged her blade into the man's midriff.

Seeing one of Davy Jones' fish-men coming towards his love, sword drawn, Will ran forwards and parried against the blade above his head before bringing up his leg and kicking the creature in the stomach. It stumbled towards the wooden railings on the edge of the boat, and the blacksmith-turned-pirate wasted no time in pushing him overboard.

Seeing themselves in no immediate danger, the couple turned to each other.  
"Elizabeth…?"

Will gazed at her, and she gazed back. The moment, short though it was, felt like bliss.  
"Will you marry me?"  
Lizzie's lips curled into a small smile, and she had just opened her mouth to answer when she saw something moving quickly towards Will's back.

"Will! Look out!" Her body was tired, but her mind was sharp, and Elizabeth acted quickly in pushing Will out of the way of the oncoming entity. Unfortunately, she did not follow in the same direction, and she stood, almost frozen to the spot, as she watched the object come closer and closer to her. She couldn't move; couldn't escape.

"ELIZABETH!"

_Pain..._

Will sprinted across the deck, slashing wildly with his sword at all those in his way. He had to help her!

_Can't move…  
_

After what felt like an eternity, Will finally reached Elizabeth's side, and he proceeded to pull at the wood currently crushing his possible-fiancé.

_Can't breathe…_

"No, Elizabeth! Hold on!" He frantically pulled at the wood, determined to free her.

"_Will… Help me!"_ Her voice was small, barely a whisper, but it was enough. Motivated by her pleas, Will leant forwards and used all of his strength to try and shift the object crushing Elizabeth.

_So… tired…_

"Goddammit! Come on Lizzie! STAY WITH ME!" Frustrated, Will tried one last time to shift the wood. Failing this, he cupped her face in his hands.

"Don't you DARE close your eyes Elizabeth Swann!"

_I can't… Will, please, help me._ Her eyes pleaded with Will to free her. To free her from the pain, and it killed him. He wasn't strong enough.

Darkness surrounded her.

_  
__-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_  
Yo, ho, haul together,_

_Hoist the colours high_

_Heave ho, thieves and beggars_

_Never shall we die._

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A/N Thanks for reading - reviews are greatly appreciated. The story currently has an age rating of "T", but please tell me if you think it should be higher/lower in later chapters.  
Each new chapter will have a verse/chorus from the acclaimed Pirates Of The Caribbean 3 soundtrack, called "Hoist the Colours".

Wait for the next chapter to find out what happens!


	2. Chapter one

**Title: What shall we die for?**

_**Disclaimer - Unfortunately, I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean One, Two OR Three –Sadness-. Any characters I may well introduce into the plot line that have not been in either of the three films are MINE xD**_

_**Summary: After all the fighting, all the pain they endured, she was lost – taken by those presumed dead. It's about high time she was found.**_

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**Insanity preys upon the weak**

It's a funny thing, madness. It is said that those who know they are mad are not in fact so - they are merely delusional – or 'weird', if you please. However, the truly insane do not know of such things. Yes, they may consider themselves slightly… _eccentric_, but they do not see a psychopath every time they happen upon a mirror, or such surface. At least, that's what Jack Sparrow reckoned.  
Then again, Jack wasn't exactly - and he had, on numerous occasions, admitted this to himself - a person whom you would class as "normal".

He blamed the rum.

"I blame the rum." Jack muttered softly, still half-asleep. Upon realising the meaning of the words he had just spoken, his dark eyes shot open.  
"Rum? Where's the rum? Why is the rum to blame? That's just maddening the unhelpful."

No. The rum wasn't to blame. She was. _Her_. She was the reason for his madness – his suffering. It wasn't the rum's fault – it was hers.

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He watched silently as she lay in a comatose state, studying her features. She was a natural beauty, no doubt about that, but he still couldn't see why men were willing to die for her.

"What makes you so special?"

Then again, he couldn't be expected to understand these things - he was heartless, after all.

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_"You want pain? Try wearing a corset."__  
__"Will you marry me?"__  
__"Will! Look out!"__  
__"Don't you DARE close your eyes Elizabeth Swann!"_

**_Something was wrong._**

_Short, painful breaths._

_Her eyes, slowly losing focus…_

"ELIZABETH!"

William Turner bolted upright with a gasp, only to lose his balance and tumble off the hammock upon which he had been resting.  
Rubbing his head surreptitiously, he looked around the crew's quarters, hoping that his previous outburst was unheard. Noting no movement amongst the other men, he let out a breath of relief.

However, this was soon replaced by a frown as he laid eyes upon the vacant space on the hammock beside his own. Elizabeth's hammock.

_I'm just paranoid_. He thought. _She's probably just up on the deck, or down in the brig checking on prisoners_.

"We don't have any prisoners." Confused, Will furrowed his eyebrows.

_Maybe not then. That leaves no other place - she must be on the deck_.

Slowly picking himself up from the floor, and still tender from the previous day's battle, Will stumbled towards the door.  
Hoisting it open, the young lover walked out onto the deck, almost immediately bumping in Gibbs.

"Mr. Gibbs, have you seen Elizabeth of late?"

Confusion flitted on Gibbs face for a moment.

"Aye, last I saw of your bonnie lass was yesterday, before she was taken." His words were spoken slowly; carefully. Most unusual for a man who spent most of his time in a drunken stupor.

"Taken?" William seemed to shrink with those words.

"Aye! Do ye not recall, lad? She saved your hide from that splintered wood and was taken by Jones himself whilst you were fighting the 'fish-people'. We're currently searching for her now. No leads as of yet, but I'm sure-"

"-Gibbs, are you SURE she's not here?" William glanced around the ship. "This isn't some strange dream?"

Gibbs shook his head sadly.

"No, lad. This is no dream. You be har, but she's well and truly gone."

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The king and his men  
Stole the queen from her bed  
And bound her in her bones  
The seas be ours  
And by the powers  
Where we will,  
We'll roam.

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A/N Gah! As you can probably tell, I do not excel with "Pirate Speak", but who cares? It's all relative to the story anyway. You get the gist xD.  
I apologise for the shortness of this chapter – they'll get longer soon! (I hope - my other stories chapters were about 1800 words a-piece!)

As with before, reviews are appreciated!


	3. Chapter two

**Title: What shall we die for?**

_**Disclaimer - Unfortunately, I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean One, Two OR Three –Sadness-. Any characters I may well introduce into the plot line that have not been in either of the three films are MINE xD**_

A/N – I must first apologise for the long awaited update – I was away for five days on a GCSE history tour of French battlefields, and found myself unable to update the story on the night of my return. At least it's done now!  
I also express regret for any grammatical errors (and there are BOUND to be some… damn apostrophes), so if I make any, please tell me in reviews  
Please and thank you.

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**Fancy trinkets  
**  
Lord Beckett frowned inwardly as he continuously paced about his cabin, only pausing to glance upon his overly-sized portrait, painted by a man whose name forever escaped him.

"Stupid idiot - made me look fat."

A poignant melody drifted slowly onto the deck of the Flying Dutchman, startling the ears of its crew, who quietly put down the brooms, brushes or buckets they were using to listen to the harmony coming from below.  
One thing was sure; it was new. Different

_  
-_

Ever since Calypso had been released from her 'human bonds', Jones had been acting strangely. He seemed detached and forlorn. He could almost be described as lovesick, and the appearance of a female prisoner in the form of Elizabeth Swann did nothing to lighten his mood. If anything, that just made him more frustrated.

Pushing the thoughts from his mind, he released the keys of the organ from his grasp, and stared forlornly at the music-box-locket hung on a chain around his neck.  
Davy Jones had never been one for fancy trinkets in the form of jewellery, unless they were certain to make him a small fortune, but this one… He had loved her. He _still_ loved her.

"Calypso…"

A searing pain in his chest startled the Captain out of his sterling reverie, and had he a heart still present, he would have claimed it to be a heart-attack.  
For a split-second, no more, no less, Jones fantasised that the pain was in fact caused by a failing heart and not the other, more exasperating, option.

_Beckett._

Groaning discretely, he stood up and limped out onto the deck, frowning when he saw the entire crew staring at him.

"What are you looking at, you insolent bilge-rats? Get back to work, or it's a lashing for all of ya!"  
Needless to say, none of the mutilated crewmen were disinclined to acquiesce to his request.

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He stared at the crimson organ, astounded by its beauty, yet horrified by its meaning. To think that one could hold so much power in one's palm was implausible, yet here Beckett was – the power to control the seas in his hand.

One twitch of his fingers. That was all it needed. Then the oceans would bow before him, and after them, its loyal subjects.

Pirates. No, not pirates. Pirates were wild and free, but what they were, and what they should be were different things. They should be subdued – controlled. Although they would surely create an uprising.

"Well, if that happens, I suppose they will all just have to be killed."

Startled out of his reverie by a solemn knock on the door, he placed the heart back in the chest.

"Come in."

A small, robust man entered the room, and bowed before the captain.

"Captain, sir. He's waiting on the deck."

"Send him down." The captain nodded briskly, watching the soldier hurry from the room.

Brushing off his clothes, Beckett sat upright in his chair with a cup of tea in his right hand, saucer in his left, and surrounded himself in his usual air of arrogance, preparing for the other person soon to enter the room.

"Ah, Jones. You waited for permission to enter? Learnt some manner of propriety at last, I see." He smirked, pausing to take a small sip of his scalding drink.

The captain of the Flying Dutchman growled, but remained silent.

"Good boy. Now, I hear you have a new… member… aboard your ship. My sources tell me that said person is alive, which I must say is rather a shock, for you usually slaughter your prisoners, do you not?"

"What do you want?" Davy Jones sighed, growing ever more impatient with Beckett's manner. After receiving a questioning glance from said captain, he frowned and muttered, "sir."

"I want the prisoner transferred across to my ship. What I then do with them is of my concern."

Jones opened his mouth to speak, his face contorting with anger, but Beckett cut him off.

"Jones. I am beginning to think you have forgotten about our little… bargain." Beckett drew out the last word, savouring its sound upon his tongue, savouring the look of pure fury etched across his guest's somewhat insipid features.

"There is no bargain between us, Beckett." Jones snarled, slamming his fist down upon Beckett's table.  
Cutler watched calmly as the china tea set crashed onto the floor.

"I believe you are forgetting the small matter of your heart, Jones. I have the heart, and if you so much as step one inch out of line, I will see to it that you and your crew will 'live' to regret ever crossing me. Do not forget Jones, eternal damnation awaits you at the bottom of your locker." Beckett chuckled lightly to himself. "Ironic, is it not, that the person who deals in such suffering will receive a punishment just as great upon death, if not greater?"

He took another sip from his cup of tea.

"Bring over the prisoner, and put said person in the brig. That is an order, and one which you have no authority to refuse."

Sensing defeat, the captain of the Flying Dutchman raised his head high, and limped out of Beckett's quarters in an as dignified manner as he could muster.

He faded into the Endeavour's walls, and soon found himself in the brig of his own ship.

Turning to one of his crew, he muttered, "take the prisoner on board the Endeavour and put her in the brig."

Before the deceased sailor could reply, Jones stormed stiffly through the brig and into his quarters, where he instantly placed himself on the stool beside the ancient organ. His long tentacles relaxed as notes were pressed and music once more filled the empty silence that had drowned the room.

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**  
**Beckett watched curiously as a lone figure was carried across deck by two men, and his footsteps echoed loudly throughout the ship as he followed the trio down into the brig.

"It would seem that said prisoner is not conscious. That will be useful for interrogating them." He muttered to himself as the two sailors set down the pirate, his view of it's features obscured by the iron bars lining the cage where the captive now lay.

Waving the sailors off, Beckett slowly advanced forwards, drinking in the captive's appearance from feet upwards.  
To say that Beckett was staggered by the realisation of whom the said prisoner was would be an understatement, however he soon regained a regal posture, staring down his nose at the young woman sprawled on the floor.

Smirking maliciously, he leant down and caressed the woman's cheek with a single finger, taking in every line - every detail, and although he knew that the prisoner could not hear him in her comatose state, he chose his next words carefully all the same, brushing a loose lock of hair out of the way, and spoke them gently in her ear.

"It seems that I once again fortunate enough to have the pleasure of your company, however minimal it may be at this current moment in time… Elizabeth - Miss Swann…"

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Yo, ho, haul together  
Hoist the colours high  
Heave, ho, thieves and beggars,  
Never shall we die.

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A/N – Well, there you go then! Thanks again to all reviewers – You rock! Heh… Anyway. I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter – told you that they would get longer! Next chapter should be up relatively soon, as I'm not planning on going away in the near future!  
Ciao for now, Robyn.


	4. Chapter three

**Title: What shall we die for?**

_**Disclaimer - Unfortunately, I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean One, Two OR Three –Sadness-. Any characters I may well introduce into the plot line that have not been in either of the three films are MINE xD**_

A/N Apologies again for the time it took me to update, back at school so I've got homework to do, coursework to write and exams to revise for. How thrilling. Realised that I'd forgotten one or two things, ((silly me!)) so I've reposted chapter four.

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Waiting

The crew of the Endeavour were unsure as to how long Beckett sat in the brig, staring at the newcomer on the ship. It seemed that he spent each and every moment by the prisoners cell. Nobody knew why he was acting so - nobody even knew who the prisoner was – the only people other than Beckett to have seen the persons face were the two sailors who carried said person down to the brig. They disappeared shortly afterwards.

Since that moment, anyone caught venturing anywhere near the cells was shot on sight, usually by Mercer, Beckett's 'loyal' companion, if not Beckett himself. When Beckett did venture onto the deck to give orders, he always seemed impatient and agitated, as if he was waiting for something to happen

Needless to say, the crew thought that he was acting rather odd.

Beckett knew this. He could see it upon the men's faces every time he brushed past them, eyes betraying their calm façade. He could hear the whispers at night, filtering through the thin cabin walls and into his restless ears, making sleep seem impossible. He knew that they were frustrated by his secrecy surrounding the captive on board the ship, and as easy as it would be to reveal the identity of the said prisoner, Beckett was determined to wait for the right moment – a moment that seemed to take forever to arrive.

Lord Beckett was unsure as to how long Elizabeth had been in her injury-induced coma, but it had been at least three days since she had come to be in the brig of the Endeavour. Three long days. Watching. Waiting.

Cutler sighed, shifting position on the hard wooden bench situated in front of Elizabeth's cell so that he was now leaning against a crate beside him, staring at her sleeping form with incredulous wonder.  
Miss Swann had always been a mystery to him, no matter how hard he had tried to understand her. He almost regarded her as selfish – she had been brought up in one of the most wealthy and privileged families in Port Royal as the Governor's daughter, a position of which many girls would kill for. She was presented with the love of a kind and honourable man in the form of James Norrington, but unlike many women, she wasn't happy with that set arrangement.  
She wanted to build her own life, write her own story, if you please.

Shuffling closer to her cell, Beckett smirked, shaking his head.

"And just look where that got you."

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Will's skin seemed pale and gaunt under the harsh glow of the waning moon. His lips were dark and thin, his eyes sinister and full of pain. His hands unconsciously reached up to his back, caressing the smooth scars that had recently formed on his skin. He could hear the crack of the whip; feel the lash of its leather torture every time his fingertips brushed past a different scar. They were reminders of painful memories that needed to be forgotten, but could never be due to the permanent memento of the past. He couldn't help but feel that it was his fault that the pirates had been left in their current predicament.  
Will had promised, mind, body and soul, to take care of Elizabeth, and to shield her from the world's demons. Even still, his love proved not to be enough, for as soon as the couple was rejoined, she was taken by those presumed dead.

She was taken whilst protecting him, when it had been his job to protect her.

Will furrowed his brow as the conflicting voices spread across his mind, the urge to scream becoming ever more appealing.  
Breathing deeply, Will gently massaged his temples with his fingers.  
"We need to find her."  
"I know that, lad."  
A deathly silence smothered the two men standing on the deck, the only sound being the gentle caress of the salty waves upon the Black Pearl's hull.  
"Young William, we're trying everything we can to find her, Jack's even gone looking for her with that compass of his, but we don't know where-"  
"THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" Slamming his hand down upon the ship's wooden railing, Will glowered at Gibbs for a split second before seemingly collapsing under his gaze. With tears filling his eyes and his voice barely a whisper, the young lover sat on the deck with his head in his hands. "Why is Jack out looking for her when I should be the one searching! Who is looking after the ship in his absence?"  
"Barbossa." Gibbs replied, his distaste at the situation apparent on his weathered face.  
Will sighed.  
"_That's not good enough_…"_  
_

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Pain.

It flooded every crevice of her prone body, causing even the slightest twitch of a limb to be done so in the purest form of agony.  
Maybe it was because the way she was lying upon the damp, wooden floor. That was the possible option.  
Or maybe it was due to the injury to her back that, even in her semi-conscious state, hurt like hell.  
That was the probable option.

Either way, Elizabeth Swann knew that her current situation was, for lack of better words, not good.  
Sniffing gently, she could smell the smell of rotting wood, and taste the distinct saltiness of the sea upon the air.  
Lifting her head slightly, and trying to ignore the throbbing pain that ensued, she opened her eyes and surveyed the room she was currently in.

She seemed to be lying in a small cage, no bigger than two Metres Square. Iron bars lined the walls of the cell and a small gate was nestled in one corner. Elizabeth slowly raised herself up into a sitting position and left her hands resting in her lap. She gritted her teeth against the painful protests being emitted from her back in a loose attempt to control the dull ache.  
Finding the gritting of the teeth to be rather pointless and ineffective, Elizabeth groaned softly and lowered her fingers onto the gnarled wooden floor.

Her father, God rest his soul, had once told her that it is possible to tell how old a tree is by looking at how many different circles there are in it's trunk. Every circle was the equivalent of one year. He said that some trees had over two hundred circles, so were over two hundred years old, and it was now that Elizabeth found herself tracing the lines on the wooden floorboards with a delicate finger.  
Although she found the memory to be oddly comforting, Elizabeth had always believed the 'age-determined-by-number-of-circles' story to be a myth, and a rather sad one at that.  
Personally, Miss Swann felt that the circles were just like the trees veins; a necessary part of the tree if it's biological function was to be correct. Then again, she had taken every opportunity to disagree with her father, even on matters as trivial (and irrelevant) as 'tree biology'.

A sharp side-rocking motion startled Elizabeth out of her reverie, and she fell to the left, landing painfully on her side. A stifled gasp escaped her lips, and she bit back tears that were threatening to fall.  
Her efforts were short-lived; however, as she soon found that her worries could no longer be repressed as she unleashed all the pain, fear, worry and hurt that had been cooped up for God knows how long.

"Will…" Uttering his name only caused her more sorrow, and Elizabeth soon found herself curled up painfully into a small ball, her back throbbing insanely.

No more than seven minutes later, Elizabeth once again found her reverie interrupted.  
"This is becoming a common occurrence," she muttered bitterly.  
However she found it to be this time by a loud, obnoxious voice that penetrated the darkness.

"Bugger. Why is the rum always gone?"

It was then that Elizabeth jumped to the conclusion of her being a 'passenger' upon a boat.

Sorry, ship.

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Some men have died,  
and some are alive,  
and others sail on the sea.  
- With the keys to the cage  
And the Devil to pay,  
we lay to Fiddler's Green

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A/N Yeesh; this chapter was hard to write. Reviews are welcome; I'd like to see how you are enjoying my story thus far. I'll try and update soon, but I have English, Maths, RS and Textiles coursework to do, so I can't give a set date. Thanks! Robyn.


	5. Chapter four

**Title: What shall we die for?**

_**Disclaimer - Yeah, it's not mine. I think we get it now?**_

A/N Sorry it took so long, (over a week!), but I've been really busy with school and all that. I edited chapter four slightly – a couple of bits didn't really make sense, but it has been edited now. On with the story!

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**Vindicated  
**  
It wasn't her presence upon a ship that surprised Elizabeth, in actual fact, she found the rhythmic swaying of its helm rather comforting. What surprised her was _that voice_ - the voice that had filled her dreams. At first it spoke of adventure and curiosity, of rum and the sea – beautiful things. It was the voice that was forever bringing a well-needed smile to her lips.  
But after that day, it changed. It became full of malice, pain, fear and guilt. _Her_ guilt. Dreams turned into nightmares.

Needless to say, she couldn't sleep much after that day.

"_Bugger. Why is the rum always gone?"  
_

"Jack?" Her throat dry and sore from the distinct lack of a liquid, her voice came out a mere whisper. Even so, a tall man approached the bars of her cell, an empty glass bottle gripped in his hand.

"Lizzie?" He leant forwards, the gentle light from the lantern by the bars of her cell illuminating his features.  
With beaded dreadlocks, a two-pronged beard and kohl eyes, there was no doubt as to the identity of the man.  
"Lizzie, darling! How are you?" The corners of his lips curled upwards slightly as he gazed upon her prone figure.  
'Lizzie' sighed exasperatedly, choosing not to bother honouring that question with an answer. Instead, she opted to glare at him. Glaring always works.

Jack raised an eyebrow in response, staring curiously at Elizabeth, almost as if he was trying to gaze into her mind. She wilted under his sharp stare, and quickly turned her eyes to the floor.  
"Why are you here?"

Jack frowned, and spoke his next words softly.  
" I came to rescue you." Elizabeth eyed the pirate curiously.  
"And how do you intend to do that?" She knew more of Jack Sparrow's many 'talents' than most people, but she could not deny the fact that she was intrigued as to how he would many to break her out of the cell.  
Jack merely smirked.  
"Why, think like dear William, of course."

_Will?_

A stifled snigger, belonging to neither Elizabeth nor Jack, penetrated the darkness, a shadowed figure soon following in its wake.

"Jack Sparrow-"  
"-Captain! _Captain _Jack Sparrow"  
"I realise that you have never been a man of much 'social class', but surely you must have a sense of propriety? It is awfully rude to trespass upon ones private property, after all."

Rolling his eyes, Beckett chose to temporarily ignore Sparrow, instead turning his attentions onto the female prisoner.  
"I see that you are finally awake Miss Swann. I trust you slept well?" His lips curled upwards into a smirk.

"Never better." _If only I had my sword, then I could CUT that smirk of that arrogant bastard's face, closely followed by his-. _She paused, _would Beckett suit being a eunuch?  
_  
Surprised by her thoughts and unable to contain herself any longer, the young captive let out a raucous laugh, her sides shaking uncontrollably from the amusement she found in her own mind, and the absurdity of her current predicament.  
However, Elizabeth's merriment was short-lived as an excruciating pain, emanating from her back, proceeded to spread across the entirety of her body. Laughter soon turned to tears.

Beckett watched with a sadistic smile lingering upon his lips.  
"So it would seem."  
Turning to Jack, (who was still skipping merrily), Cutler quickly drew his pistol and cocked it at the frolicking pirate. No words were spoken between the pair, but a short gesture to one of the empty cages next to Elizabeth's was instruction enough. '

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"It's a curious thing, piracy." Beckett twisted a letter opener between the index fingers on his right and left hand. "Men fighting, killing, stealing for their own sadistic pleasure – for an apparent sense of 'freedom'. It all revolves around lies, yet people seem so threatened by its very existence. They cower in their pathetic little homes, terrified of ever meeting a pirate." He paused to take a sip of his tea from the small china cup in front of him. "They seem not to realise how easy it is to capture a pirate", Beckett turned his gaze to the creature in front of him.  
"How easy it is to… _manipulate_ said person. Would you not agree, Jones?"

The Captain of the Flying Dutchman glared venomously at Beckett, before slamming his fist down upon the polished table next to Cutler. The small cup of tea, saucer and all, fell to the floor, smashing into oblivion upon impact.  
Unperturbed, the EITC leader rolled his eyes, and folded his hands across his lap.  
"Honestly, Jones, have some sense of propriety. Must I be forever reminding you of your _position_ in our little equation? I have the heart; you obey the East India Trading Company and I like a good little dog." He smirked. "Try and curb your enthusiasm."

Sighing, Jones looked Beckett in the eye.  
"What do you wish for me to do?"  
"I want you to help me." Cutler smirked darkly.  
"Yes, I realise that."  
"_Let_ me finish. I want you to help me with a certain Miss Elizabeth Swann."  
Jones raised one eyebrow(?).  
"Why?"

"Do _not_ question me, Jones. In case you are forgetting, Miss Swann is the Pirate King, in the position to become Governess of Port Royal, and," he sneered, "she is in _love_."  
"Miss Swann has a natural power over the people, and I intend to use it to my advantage." Beckett ran his fingers over the table in front of him, curling his lip in disgust at the dust that came off onto his fingertips.  
"The prisoner will, of course, remain upon the Endeavour. If you wish to 'visit' her, you must have a guard escort you. Can't have you running off with her, now, can we?"

Jones shook his head slowly.  
"Excellent. Now… You may use any methods that you deem to be appropriate - I want her begging for mercy."  
Davy visibly flinched at the mention of Jack.  
"Ah yes, did I fail to mention that Sparrow is also aboard the ship?" Beckett grinned. "Sparrow is not to be harmed. Not physically, anyway."  
Sensing Jones' confusion, Cutler continued.  
"Psychological torture damages the mind just as much as physical torture, Jones, if not more. Use both to break Swann, but make sure to do it _in front_ of Sparrow, with as many men as you like. I want both of them to suffer…"

Jones bowed his head slightly, a small smile that was playing on his lips betraying his calm demeanour.

Once the Captain of the Flying Dutchman had exited the cabin, Beckett leant back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head.  
He licked his lips slowly and stared out of the glass window lining one of the sides of his room, admiring the sunset.

"And so it begins…"

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A/N Yeah, so, a bit of a filler chapter, with no real Will in there (hahahah), but I can assure you that the action is now starting  
Anyhow – A vote. Should this story be a Willabeth, Sparrabeth, or just a story with three characters that are friends? (Yeah right!)  
Reviews appreciated as always – Please and thank you!


	6. Author's Note

Author's note

Hey everyone…  
Seriously sorry for not updating in ages, but I've been on holiday and doing loads of stuff around the house for my parents.  
Unfortunately, I'm going to have to put this story on hiatus, as I seem to have lost my muse. –Shrugs-. I can't really see where this story is going, and I'm getting distracted by other story ideas (for other films/shows) that are coming into my head.

Therefore, I'm going to put "What shall we die for?" on hiatus until I can find a way to continue said story without making it seem forced.  
In the mean time, I shall try writing other stories that have been coming into my head – hopefully they'll inspire me to continue with the Pirates fanfic. Heck, maybe you lot will!

Anyhow, feel free to mail me any ideas you may have.

Yours, Robyn. (Cribellate)

[P.S – Anyone want to be a beta for a Heroes story I'm thinking of writing?


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